


How One Made Three

by melanie1982



Category: New Kids On The Block
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 05:54:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5279264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melanie1982/pseuds/melanie1982
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of a disaster, Jon and Donnie end up charged with the care of an orphaned baby girl. Neither one is prepared to raise her alone, so the friends decide to help one another - and she brings them together, the way they were always meant to be.<br/>I made up an island for this, so don't plan a trip there, ha ha.<br/>***references to abortions*** Please don't read this story if that offends you. I am neither condemning nor condoning abortion, and I'm not looking to get into a debate about it. It's simply part of the story. Thanks</p><p>This story is fiction. I don't make money from it, and I don't know the characters in real life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How One Made Three

Donnie was glad to see Jon. Ever since Jenny had taken off, he'd been increasingly lonely, and with his full schedule, there wasn't time to look for new company. Here in the picturesque island of Qi, the friends could enjoy catching up on recent events in one another's lives and taking strolls down memory lane. This movie was a major departure from Donnie's usual cop roles, and he was loving it, getting a chance to really flex his acting muscles and push himself with a new challenge. The fact that the island was beautiful and secluded from the paparazzi was icing on the cake. Heck, he didn't even get very good cellphone reception here! Bliss.

"Hey, man! Glad you could make it! How was the landing?"

Donnie was teasing Jon, who looked the worse for wear. The only airstrip on the island was, shall we say, rustic, and the landings were always hair-raising. "Well, it was interesting. Gave me a chance to review recent events, seeing as how my life flashed before my eyes!" Donnie wrapped an arm around Jon's shoulder and led him to the bar. "You need a drink, Jon. KJ will fix you up in no time."

It was true; after a drink (maybe two), Jon did start to unwind. The island community was dependent upon tourism and the entertainment industry to stay solvent, so the locals went above and beyond to welcome every visitor. Jon noticed how the cast and crew were like one big, slightly chaotic family, with Donnie right there at the heart of it, and it made him wistful. He'd traveled the world, had legions of adoring fans, earned more money than he could ever spend - and yet, something was amiss. What was lacking in his life? Jon felt a pang of envy as Donnie lingered a moment too long smiling at one of his female assistants, who just so happened to resemble his first wife, and who also just so happened to brush against her 'boss' every chance she got, finding any excuse to touch him, fuss over him, adjust the most minute detail about him. He adored his parents and had good relationships with his siblings, but the stability he craved had so far eluded him. He built houses - laid literal foundations upon which people built their lives and dreams - so why couldn't he have what they all had? Why was he always restless, searching for something more? Perhaps the island held the answer to the mystery. 

"You make friends wherever you go," Jon teased as the woman sauntered away. Donnie's attention snapped back to his guest. "None of them will ever take your spot, Jon," he reassured with a grin. Jon felt woozy; must be the jet-lag, or the liquor.. Yeah, that was it.

"I'm glad you have all these crazy people around. I'm a little jealous, but, you've always been the outgoing type." Donnie nodded thoughtfully.

"There are some really good people here working on this project, Jon. I feel like this movie is healing me, taking me towards a deeper purpose. This island has, well, a magic about it, something I can't figure out yet. Maybe you can help me on that, since you're more introspective than me." Jon watched his friend take another swallow of his drink, watched the muscles of his throat work as the liquid traveled down, the way his pulse was visible in his jugular. He imagined the taste of that skin, the salt of it, the way it would feel under his tongue: rough? smooth? halfway between?

Jon shook his head. "Man, what was IN that drink?"

Donnie laughed; "Sorry - island secret. You're fresh off the boat, so to speak, and I can't tell you yet."

Luckily for Jon, Donnie was needed just then, and Jon had time alone to settle into the beach house and unpack. As he took a seat on the wrap-around porch, cool drink in hand, Jon took in the stunning sea view. There were no boats visible, no other land as far as the eye could see; this might as well be the end of the earth, or the only inhabited land on the planet. He felt small and humble against such a vast majestic backdrop, and the sound of the waves lulled him into a meditative state. He felt every muscle begin to un-knot itself, sinking deeper and deeper into the cushions. When had he last felt this good? He couldn't recall.

Somewhere in the distance, there was a sound, half-cry, half-song, and he leaned forward, peering out at the water. A whale - the most immense creature he'd ever seen - hurled itself part of the way out of the water, then crashed back into it. The animal repeated this maneuver half a dozen times, calling to its mates and letting the wind carry the sound to land. He soon saw that there were other whales swimming alongside, their voices joining the first. Was the song a warning?, Jon later wondered. Had he dreamt it?

Under a brilliant blue sky, Donnie shot a few scenes. Something about being here made him even more proficient at remembering his lines and tapping into the emotions he needed; perhaps the fresh air, or the fresh local diet - who knew for sure. The filming process was going so smoothly, people were joking that they needed to start flubbing their lines so they could extend this 'vacation.' The morning's coolness dissolved into the pressing heat of afternoon, and Donnie headed back to the beach house to have lunch and freshen up. Some of his friends were disappointed, but he told them he had a 'date' with Jon, and that got them laughing and smoothed over any ruffled feathers. Donnie found Jon asleep in a chair on the porch, and decided to fix lunch before waking him. He prepared a tray of fresh local fruits and veggies, along with some treats from one of the island bakeries. Leaving everything carefully arranged and covered on the table, D went to take a shower. Jon awoke from a strange dream, a dream in which he heard a baby crying; it took him a moment to remember where he was. "I've heard of women having biological clocks, but.." He chided himself, shaking it off.

Walking through the house, he found the table laden with tempting delights. Donnie wouldn't care if he started without him, and Jon did suddenly feel ravenous, but he decided to wait. Looking around the room, he couldn't get over the amount of natural light and fresh air in the space. Everything was white, pale blue or seashell pink, incorporating the colors of the beaches here, and it was so simple and clean, so bright and inviting. Speaking of inviting...

Donnie emerged in nothing but a fluffy white terrycloth robe. His hair was still damp, his feet bare, and Jon fidgeted in his seat. "I've heard of casual dining, D, but this is a new level," he sputtered, trying to hide his blushes.

Donnie just laughed, not caring. "I've learned to live more low-maintenance since being here. None of the trappings of the big city, no pressure to be perfect. I love it here, Jon." That was apparent in the way he carried himself, the way he didn't rush everything like he usually did. Even the lunch took almost an hour, just two friends enjoying the food and one another's company. No phones or devices ringing or dinging and interrupting, no screaming fans, no producers yelling instructions.. This island WAS magic.

Jon spent a few hours after lunch watching them film and getting to know some of the crew. He was impressed that none of the co-stars were 'famous;' they were all unknowns. Jon found himself hoping this would be their big break, but dreading it, too, knowing what fame could do to a person. He'd never been prouder of his friend than he was that day, watching him cradle the child actor who had to pretend to be dying. When Donnie cried, it was spontaneous, beautiful, and achingly raw. There was no need for saline tears; the sobs wrenching from D were genuine, and Jon remembered - remembered Donnie's tearful phone call on a Christmas years ago, when he couldn't bear the pain of his secret any longer.

Donnie had been seeing a girl on and off for years - some said she was the reason for his first divorce, though Jon never pressed him on that issue. At any rate, said girl had been a few months into a pregnancy, and then - the baby was gone. She said she "couldn't go through with it." It had devastated Donnie, and the fact that he had to hide his pain from the world only compounded it. The Christmas call had been his way of confessing without going to a priest or a therapist; he had sobbed his heart out. "She'd be a little over a year old now, Jon, playing with the wrapping paper, hiding in the boxes. I love my sons, but I always dreamed of having a little princess to spoil. It's never going to happen." That had been one of several babies Donnie had lost in that manner, but the little girl, the one whose gender had been confirmed, seemed to hit him the hardest. Jon wondered if that was where the pain was coming from, the real grief channeling through his friend and being captured on film. He filed his questions away for another time.

As the sun began to set, everyone agreed to wrap up for the day. Those scenes had been done in a few takes, but everyone was emotionally drained and in need of relief. Jon was happy to provide a diversion for his friend. "If you're not too tired, would you mind showing me around the island?"

Donnie arched a brow. "It'll be DARK soon, Jon. We can take in a little bit now, but the real wilderness experience will have to wait til tomorrow - I've got the entire morning free."

Jon was impressed. "Are you playing hooky from work for me?"

Donnie gave a sly smile from beneath lowered lashes. "What if I am?" Jon could only laugh; none of the words that came to mind would do as a reply.

The 'main street' of the island was a mixture of small eateries and stores interspersed by residences. Most business owners lived over or under their place of work, which meant the friends got a real sense of the local culture as they walked along. This was how these people lived, and it was so beautifully simple. "They don't seem like buildings; they seem like part of the landscape," Jon marveled, noting how the structures blended in with, rather than altered, the lay-out of the land.

Donnie agreed. "They've always lived like this, in harmony with the land. Most people here grow the majority of their own food, or fish it straight from the sea. There's no manufacturing here, other than the handmade items - no mass-marketed, manufactured stuff, no industrialization. The power station and the radio and cell towers are about the only hi-tech stuff here. See? Almost no signal," D said, showing his phone. There was no sense of urgency here; everyone just ambled along, getting there when they got there.

"I can't believe you can stand this island time mentality," Jon teased.

Donnie said, "Same to you. You haven't checked your phone once, and I've never seen you look this relaxed."  
Dinner was eaten at a counter, straw thatch overhead, bamboo bar stools giving them a break from walking. The owner was also the chef, and everything was prepared just feet away from them, giving them a sort of show with their meal. Jon couldn't recall anything tasting that fresh in his life. "Beats the hell outta burgers," Donnie joked, poking at himself. Jon laughed, but Donnie turned serious. "I'm thinking of a change, Jon. The life I've lived, it can't be sustained forever. I'm not twenty anymore, and I can't keep pushing myself the way I have been. Do you ever feel like something's missing, Jon?"

His words had a breath-taking effect on Jon, who felt as if he'd just stepped into a cold spot. "Yeah. I've been thinking about that myself. I'm not getting any younger, and I can't be a boybander forever. What's my next move? What am I not getting?" They let that sit for a moment, and the owner checked whether they'd be needing anything else.

"Dessert?", Donnie asked, and they settled on splitting one. No one around them seemed to bat an eye at the sight of two grown men playfully feeding one another a decadent delicacy and making serious eye contact. Sensing Jon's train of thought, Donnie spoke in a low rumble. "The natives believe that sexuality is sacred, and they revere gay, bi, and trans people as deeply spiritual - like they're gifted more than straight people." That blew Jon's mind. While most places were willing to tolerate him in pursuit of the almighty dollar, he had not felt safe in many of the places he'd visited. He had a few horror stories, but those seemed to fade here.

"That's.. Wow. That's really something, Donnie." His friend agreed.

The walk back to the house had a timeless feel to it, like they'd been doing this every night for years. Jon almost grabbed Donnie's hand, then caught himself. After setting him up in the spacious guest room, Donnie seemed reluctant to retire to his own quarters, so Jon suggested they hang out and listen to the local radio. It was nice not having a tv to distract them and turn their minds to mush. Jon asked Donnie a question which had taken a lot of courage to formulate, let alone voice, but Donnie just sighed. When Jon looked over in the near-darkness, he saw that his friend had drifted off. Perhaps it's for the best, he thought, though he spent a good forty minutes second-guessing himself before succumbing to sleep.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

If Donnie had heard or sensed anything different from Jon the night before, it evaporated from his mind in the bright light of sunrise. He pounced Jon like a boisterous brother, dragging him out of bed at an ungodly hour. "C'mon, man! The island is just waking up! Adventure awaits!"

"Okay, Tigger. Just let Eeyore get some coffee in him first, or you may be carrying him home in a few hours." Donnie already had it taken care of, and within a few minutes, they were off.

"First stop, the old ruins. This was the site of the island's only temple, and there are relics dating back to..." Jon tried to focus on the words. The ruins were beautiful, with that sense of deep peace about it that he'd often found in old churches and shrines, the feeling that God had just been there, breathing blessings into the space. Sunlight filtered down through a canopy of lush green, and the vines seemed to be embracing the crumbling pillars, trying to hold them up, to freeze them in time. The stones were worn smooth from the feet of many worshipers and visitors, and Jon could easily envision laying down right there and taking a nap, falling asleep as he gazed up at the patches of sky visible through the leaves. Donnie's proximity to him had him slightly on edge, however, and the heat radiating from his freshly-showered body, smelling like heaven, was making it hard to concentrate on the history coming out of his friend's mouth.

The second must-see spot was the island's wildlife sanctuary. Jon had noticed that wildlife seemed to pretty much have the run of the land, with strict laws against capturing, injuring or killing anything other than domestic food animals or wild fish, but the sanctuary was another spiritual place for him. Animals didn't judge the way humans did, though they were capable of thoughts and emotions, of that Jon had no doubt. As he watched Donnie stroking a tiger cub, he thought, He's in his element. Donnie the Big Cat Whisperer? Maybe a new reality show? No; his friend was coming to the end of that part of his life, of needing constant attention and approval. He was on the verge of a new chapter, and he knew it. Jon was, too. The island had healed and restarted what a bad marriage had interrupted: the spiritual growth of Donnie Wahlberg.

The final stop on the morning's agenda was Love Falls. "Is that a gay bar?," Jon teased, for which he earned a play-punch on the arm.

"No, silly. We're gonna see the waterfalls, then sit and have a picnic. It's probably my favorite spot on the island." Jon wondered how anything could top the beaches, the temple ruins, or the animal sanctuary, but the falls blew him away.

"This is unreal," he breathed, overcome by the power of hundreds of tons of water rushing into a series of pools carved into the rock by time. Donnie set down his messenger bag, which Jon assumed contained their picnic, and kicked off his shoes. Removing his socks didn't cause Jon any alarm; even peeling off his shirt didn't raise Jon's eyebrow. When D's thumbs hooked into the waistband of his cargo shorts, however, Jon froze.

"Man, what're you DOIN'?"

Donnie blinked, non-plussed. "I'm stripping down to go skinny-dipping. So are you. I'm almost ready; you better catch up."

"But - you can't - I mean, we - huh?"

Donnie shrugged, giving Jon a look over his shoulder. His naked shoulder. Which was over his naked back, and his naked..ah, jeez..

"I'm not gonna pollute this gorgeous water with detergent residue and fabric fluff. Come on. The water feels amazing!"

A very uninhibited Donnie eased himself into the water and waded over to the main fall. Watching his friend getting wet, water pouring over every muscle, making him sigh, was more than Jon could bear.

"Don't make me come strip you myself," he threatened, and Jon wasn't sure whether he was kidding. "I'll haul your naked ass in here myself."

Jon wanted to; but.. "Is it safe?"

Donnie smiled. "Yup. Nobody will bother us here, man. It's just you and me. What could happen?"

What indeed, Jon said, praying his hard-on would subside or at least quieten down before Donnie could see it. Jon opted for backing into the water, keeping *that* hidden from D's view. The first couple minutes were awkward, but soon, Jon almost forgot that he was naked - NAKED! - in front of his best friend, and that his best friend was naked, too. They splashed around and joked like it was the most natural thing in the world, which it was. The water was cool beneath the fall, and movement was necessary in order to stay warm. Donnie threw caution to the wind and floated on his back, drifting ever nearer to the next fall. Jon tried to float as gracefully as D, but he was too tense.

Donnie opened one eye, casting an appraising glance over his friend. "You gotta relax. Forget your self-consciousness; it's just me." That's the problem, Jon thought, sighing internally. Donnie's hands found Jon's shoulders and began to expertly work out the knots, his thumbs pressing on Jon's shoulder-blades until they gave. He alternated light touches with firmer ones, pushes with pulls, caresses with squeezes, until Jon was melting under his touch. It barely registered when Donnie brought his body up close behind him, aligning his chest with Jon's back. Those magic hands began a slow, gentle descent, covering more sensitive skin along Jon's sides before resting at his hips. The hands slid upward, starting at the waist and brushing over Jon's nipples so lightly that Jon wasn't sure whether it was intentional.

When the caresses headed south once more, gathering speed, Jon had to say something. "Donnie." His voice came out as a hoarse croak; he was choking on banked passion and love unspoken.

"It's just me, Jon. It's okay. Let me do this for you."

At that very moment, Nature interrupted Donnie's plans, the magic spell of the island broken and shattered. Somewhere in the distance, sirens wailed - a hurricane had been spotted just off the coast. Hurricanes meant floods, and everyone on the island needed to head for higher ground. "We gotta get outta here, Jon." His tone was stern and fraught with sudden fear; Jon didn't understand. There hadn't been a dark cloud in the sky all morning, and the winds didn't seem --

The hands hauling Jon out of the water were strong and insistent, a sharp contrast to the gentleness of a moment before. The two men dressed in haste, Jon running blindly as they headed into thicker vegetation.

"You can do it, Jon. Keep up with me." He struggled to keep pace with D as the rain began to fall in sheets. The ground beneath them turned to mud; they slipped and tripped as they went, but the sirens were louder now, spurring them on. Jon remembered the whales swimming out, away from Qi; had that been an omen? Had they known the island and its surrounding waters were about to be pummeled?

They made it to the other side of the jungle, and Jon found that there was a marked trail which inclined more steeply as you went along. Mud gave way to gravel; grass gave way to concrete. The island had constructed a communal storm shelter beneath its only hospital, resting upon the island's highest point. Donnie was relieved to find that all cast and crew were accounted for, and they were all very glad to see him.

"How bad?", Donnie asked Mike the producer as they helped herd the masses into the basement.

"One hurricane spotted off the west coast, set to hit us head-on. Two smaller spouts on the radar - one east, one south. Could get pretty bad." Three? Three hurricanes? The island had withstood some major storms over the years, but always one at a time. Mike's face was ashen; his earpiece was giving him updates on the radar tracking the storms. D refused to head downstairs until he was satisfied that nobody else was coming. Just as he prepared to close the door, Mike stopped him. "You and the other leads are choppering out, NOW."

The words didn't compute in Donnie's brain. "Huh?"

Mike was dragging D and Jon up a narrow stairway to the med-evac helipad. "Sightseeing copter from another island is landing as we speak. You and Jon WILL be boarding, or else."

As the cast climbed aboard, they helped lift Jon inside, his knees having gone weak from fear and exhaustion. Donnie was still arguing with Mike, saying he couldn't leave everyone here. Another producer had joined the fray, giving thought to knocking Donnie out and loading him in cargo-style, gradually backing him up to the waiting door of the chopper. Several sets of hands reached out, pulling at him, keeping him from escaping while trying to lift him inside. Just as Donnie had one reluctant foot in and one still planted on the roof, a woman burst through the hatch, clutching a day-old baby girl.

"Please," she begged, "the building is filling with water.." A glance over the ledge confirmed it: rivers of mud were slamming against the doors on all sides. "Everyone is moving up higher in the building. Please, take her with you."

Mike interjected: "We're almost at the weight limit. Can't take any more adults on board." Donnie and Jon exchanged a glance, and the woman seized D's moment of indecision as an opportunity to force the child into his arms. Donnie was lifted in bodily, still holding the infant. Once seated, he shouted above the noise of the aircraft and the screaming winds: "I need a blanket, a jacket, anything!" Another cast member pulled out an emergency blanket, and Donnie swaddled the infant in the clean soft fabric. He barely noticed his own body shaking from cold, adrenaline still flooding him as the weeping woman on the roof became a dot lost in the storm.

This is a nightmare, Jon thought over and over like a mantra. Yet, as he looked over at Donnie with a baby girl in his arms, he felt something he couldn't explain. There was an element of panic, sure, but there was also a sense of hope. The way he held her was so protective, so sweet, as if they belonged together. D's mind was racing ahead to where they would go, how long it would be before it was safe to return to Qi, how they would find the mother... Jon could think only of that moment, of seeing his friend staring in amazement at the tiny blessing. His fear all but disappeared, and something significant clicked into place.

The pilot managed to navigate to an island several miles away, the island of Katai. Donnie was clutching the baby as if for dear life, and she had hardly cried at all. Should he be worried about that? Didn't babies cry all the time? Then there was the matter of feeding her; where would they get formula? Should they try to find a wet nurse?

"You need to get checked out, Donnie." One of the costars was talking to him as they alighted from the copter, heading for a hotel. There was a physician on call waiting to check everyone when they arrived.

"Hand me the baby, Donnie. She'll be fine. Let them check you." He listened to Jon, handing over the baby while the doctor examined him, finding a long laceration running along Donnie's right side.

"I don't know how it got there. Maybe when I fell, when we were running.."

Jon was worried about D's mental state; he was in shock, and when the shock wore off, he might break down. The doctor finished his duties with the others, satisfied they were faring well, then accompanied the trio to their temporary quarters.

"Have you heard from anyone on Qi?", Donnie begged.

The doctor shook his head no. "Communications are down. Seems the storms took out the main radio tower, as well as the power for the cell tower. The island is still in the throes of the storms, so repairs can't begin yet." Donnie grew paler still.

Jon managed to find a concierge. "We need a bottle and some formula," Jon began, but the concierge cut him off.

"The manager's wife has just had a baby. You should let her feed your daughter." Jon blinked; what had the man just said? Had he just assumed that..?

"Oh, no, I - I mean, we - she's not.." The concierge gave a puzzled grin, and Jon realized he was being a fool. "I mean, that would be a miracle. Yes. Thank you." The two men waited in their room for the manager's wife to arrive. She fed the child, and promised to express a few bottles for the morning. Other guests arrived with diapers, wipes, even a few changes of clothes. Donnie laid on one side of the bed, while Jon took the other, with little no-name in between them. Only when the little girl was settled and sleeping did Donnie dare to close his eyes for a moment.

"Donnie?"

"Mmph?"

"She doesn't have a name."

"She must have a name, Jon. The mom didn't mention it, but -"

"Well, we have to call her SOMETHING. What should we call her?"

Donnie gave it some thought. He kept trying to avoid choosing the name Jon had always wanted to use if he ever had a daughter, but the name kept floating to the surface like a magic eight ball dice. His voice was tentative, sweet in its uncertainty.

"How about 'Melody'?"

Jon swallowed a hard lump of pain in his throat. "I didn't think you'd remember that name, what it meant to me.."

Donnie reached over the tiny infant to squeeze Jon's hand. "I remember. I remember the night you called me in a panic, saying you and your friend had had too much wine and woken up naked together. I remember you saying you couldn't find a condom or even a wrapper anywhere in the house, and I told you -"

Jon took up the thread of the memory. "You told me to be ready for surprises."

There was a sad smile as he felt the grief of his friend's miscarriage like the echo of a fading nightmare.

"You didn't judge me. You didn't lecture. You kept my secret - my secret joy over the unplanned pregnancy, followed by my hidden pain when she miscarried. You let me ramble on about diapers and baby names and.. Thank you."

Soon it would be Jon's turn to gently broach a painful topic, but that could wait. For now, all that mattered was that baby Melody was safely drifting through dreamland, while Donnie ebbed away into unconsciousness to join her. Jon felt himself beginning to head that way, wondering when he had ever felt so content. It didn't make sense - Qi was still in the grip of powerful storms, and they had almost died - but he felt peace settle upon him like a benediction. Jon awoke several times in the night, once startled by the soft rapping at the door as the manager's wife delivered the promised bottles of breast milk, and every time he looked over at his roommates, they were sleeping soundly. There was an emotion filling that space which grew with the morning light; the Bible name for it was love.

\------------------------------------------------------------

Morning brought few answers, but the one which mattered most was there at last: the storms were over. "Is it safe to go back now?," Donnie wanted to know. His query was met with pale, drawn faces and pursed lips, until the physician sat him down, unable to stand watching him pace any longer.

"Donnie, the island took some major hits. There's extensive damage to most of the structures on the island; they're still pulling people out of the rubble, the ones who were unwilling or unable to seek higher ground." Donnie let that sink in for a moment, but his eyes pled for more information. The doctor knew where his mind was going, and he took a deep breath. "The hospital is still standing, but the lower floors were badly flooded. Everyone had to be moved to other parts of the building." Over the next few days, power was restored, and news began trickling in. Lists of casualties filled one wall, while the rosters of the missing were posted on the adjacent wall. With every passing hour, some of the names of the missing were crossed off of one list and tacked on to the other. Each one seemed to hit D in the solar plexus; these weren't anonymous strangers on a TV screen, but real people with lives, families, dreams. He scanned the lists of the injured and accounted for, taking solace in finding some he recognized. They had a long road ahead of them, but they were alive.

"We have to do something to help, Jon. When it's safe, we have to go back, help rebuild.." Jon knew Donnie had refused to evacuate his NYC apartment during the hurricane there, and even once he'd moved to the relative safety of a hotel, he couldn't sit idle. He had, unbeknownst to most people, helped a heavily pregnant woman who was stranded there, ordering her a pineapple pizza from the hotel kitchen and setting up a tab for her during her stay. He had allowed her to shower in his room, and had even given up his bed so she could take a nap. She had asked if he wanted to feel the baby kicking, and he'd felt that was too intimate, almost intrusive - so she had simply stretched her top tautly against her belly so that he could see the baby's movements. Donnie had gone so far as accompanying the father to their flooded home, overjoyed to find that the top drawer of the baby's dresser had not been waterlogged. They carried that drawer full of tiny clothes back to the hotel, salvaging what they could for the life about to enter the world under very inauspicious circumstances. Once the young family had resettled, anonymous gifts had poured in: a new crib much like the old one, clothes, and several months' worth of diapers. Donnie wasn't going to let this go, was going to stand and rail against the Nature which had dared to decimate his paradise island, this much Jon knew.

"We will, D. I promise. When it's safe.."

Those first few days were full of pain and loss, but also of love and hope. Baby Melody became a symbol for the future of Qi, a little bundle of potential, a miracle of sorts. Jon couldn't help falling in baby-love with her, and Donnie was equally smitten. There wasn't much one could 'do' with a newborn, but she quickly learned to respond to their voices, studying their faces with an intensity which was almost startling. Donnie held up photos from travel brochures, showing her the island of her birth as it was before the storms, all clear waters and sunshine. The hotel staff couldn't get enough of her; never had a child had so many loving smiles and cradling arms at her beck and call. Both men became pros at quick diaper changes - Melody, princess that she was, fussed if it took too long - and they took night-feedings in equal turns. Jon was less and less inclined to watch the news footage of death and despair - not even his cerebral crush Anderson Cooper could hold his focus - and more interested in spending time with their baby.

Their baby? No. She was a borrowed child, a casualty of the disaster, displaced, but definitely missed. Wasn't she?

As some of the residents of Qi made their way to Katai, Donnie was there to pepper them with questions: Did they know the woman who had just had a baby girl before the storms hit? As of yet, he had no information to go on, and he tortured himself over it. "I could've at least asked her name, where on the island she lived.."

Jon would stroke his arm or pat his back, reassuring him. "There wasn't time, D. We saved her baby. Nothing else mattered at that moment." Donnie often asked out loud whether he should have given up his seat on the chopper, but Jon dismissed this. "She couldn't leave; you saw it in her eyes. She must have had her reasons, maybe other family, other children. She wouldn't have let you get out so she could take your place." Days turned into a week, then two. Finally, the moment came that Donnie had been waiting for: they had clearance to return to the island. He chartered a boat, wary of another trip in a helicopter. The waters were calm now, as if they had moved in this same gentle rhythm since day dot, and the skies were clear. The boat held up to forty people, and Donnie got permission to announce over the hotel paging system that anyone who wanted a ride back to Qi was welcome to meet them at the dock. When everyone was aboard, they set off to face the devastation.

The boat moored at the southern tip of the island, where the damage was least severe. Even so, Donnie began to weep as he saw the trees bent back like reeds, the rubble of some of the local restaurants and hotels, knowing they were the locations of the final scenes for some of the residents. Jon had to keep urging him on, sheltering Melody's head with the palm of his hand as she snuggled against him in her makeshift baby sling.

"It's going to be okay. Focus on what's left, Donnie. These people are strong, and the world is hearing about this; have a little faith in humanity."

When they'd made their way to the center of the island, Donnie found ramps and rickety elevators leading up to the windows of the third floor of the hospital. The floors below that were sealed off from all but the most highly-trained and battle-hardened rescue workers.

"You know you can't go there. It wouldn't do any good."

Jon's words made sense, but that didn't lessen the hurt and helplessness he felt. The stench of decay baked in the afternoon sun, making their eyes water. "I'm going to stand here, away from.. just, I'll be here. Go do what you need to do. Ask your questions, find out what you can. We'll be right here." As Donnie headed up one of the ramps, a worker handed him a face-mask, and fresh tears made their way down his cheeks. He looked back over his shoulder, and the sight of Jon standing there, his posture erect with pride for his friend and wearing the little one close to his chest, fortified him for the task ahead. He took a mental shot of that moment, one he'd keep forever - even after they had to give the child back to her real family.

"I can do this. I have to, for her." With that, he entered the belly of the building.

A search of the hospital's records brought no new information on the mother's identity. Some of the nurses remembered her, but she had come to the hospital with the baby practically already crowning; there was no time for paperwork - they simply had to get her to a bed and catch the baby. She had refused to give her name, and the hospital was morally and legally bound to provide care, no matter what. Everyone had thought there would be time to get her to open up so they could help her, but then the storms..

Donnie left the building more defeated and dazed than ever. "Nothing, Jon. No name. No father's name." He leaned in close, breathing in the little girl's scent, taking deep gulps of outside air and coming back to life. His last hope was to put out an appeal for any information on the mom's identity or whereabouts. There would be a reward - but the info had to be verified, or it wouldn't count. The last thing he wanted was a bunch of scam artists and whack-jobs coming forward with useless leads. "If she's out there, we'll find her, Melody." Jon wasn't sure why those words cut him so deeply.

There were no places clean and dry enough for Melody to stay on Qi, so they returned to Katai to wait for news. Life had found a sort of routine, a new normal for the three of them; who knew that messy diapers and spit-up could be so fulfilling? There were no lines to learn, no scenes to shoot, no early-morning calls to set. Everything was moment by moment - if they could just get through the present moment, they could get through anything.

It was nearly the end of week three. Jon's brief planned vacation had turned into an open-ended adventure with no end in sight, and D's movie project was forgotten, with most of the cast and crew safely ensconced in their respective homes far from here. Donnie tried to remind Jon, and himself, that this was temporary, that things would change at any moment. It seemed like the world was so small now, just the little family here in this room, a safe cocoon from all the loss and pain of their pasts - until someone pried it open.

A special consul from Qi had tracked them down. Donnie took in the suit, the briefcase, the stern expression, and his heart stopped. The day of reckoning had come. Still, wasn't it for the best? Didn't every child deserve a chance to grow up with a loving parent, a family? Melody would have the island they loved, a beautiful, simple life, and Donnie would make sure she never wanted for any material thing. Jon's face was white, despite his tan, and Donnie knew they should sit down.

"Mr Wahlberg, Mr Knight. I have here some information about the child." Donnie's heart was being pulled apart in a million directions, but he simply nodded, urging the man to go on. "Your appeal brought forth a few leads, and it's all right here." He couldn't look, leaving Jon to take hold of the thin pile of papers the man had in his hand. Jon leafed through, and a look of confusion and terror claimed his face.

"What does all this mean? Am I reading this right?"

The consul cleared his throat. "It seems there is no trace of the mother. We tried to locate the next of kin, but there wasn't one. For all intents and purposes, this child is an orphan."

Jon knew from having several foster siblings what that could mean. "Are you going to take her into the care of the state of Qi?" Donnie felt himself growing faint.

"The island is in no state to provide a safe home for her right now. The infrastructure is going to have to be rebuilt from scratch, a birth certificate made up - literally - and then there's the fact that most resident families are in need of assistance, not more dependents." Jon blinked, waiting. "Here's what I propose, and, feel free to stop me at any time. Since you've been caring for the child for the past three weeks without incident -" here the old man softened, smiling at the healthy baby in Donnie's arms - "and since no one has come forward to claim her as family.."

"You're going to let us keep her?"

He offered a slight nod. "By local law, I have to publish intention to adopt in the local media for thirty days. If, in those thirty days, either parent comes forward and can prove by DNA testing that she is biologically theirs, they will have the right of first refusal. Likewise with any extended family members. It's procedure; it isn't personal." Both men nodded, rapt, as if he held their future in his hands - which he pretty much did, really. Thirty days wasn't normally a long time, but it was an eternity when something important was waiting to be claimed at the end of it.

"I take it you have no objections to anything I just said?"

Donnie felt like letting out a WOO!, but didn't want to frighten the baby - or the consul. "No, sir, no objections. Jon?" Jon was staring, wide-eyed, first at Melody, then at Donnie, then back at her again.

"Thirty days?" Was that all he could say? The baby must have turned his brains to puree. That had to be it, right? The three men went over the paperwork, signing the forms so they'd be ready "just in case," stating that they understood what adoption was, blah blah blah.. Donnie would've agreed to them cutting off one of his jewels if it meant getting to keep this little girl. He hadn't signed on the dotted line that recklessly since he signed his life over to M Starr at age 15. Jon's hand was shaking so badly, he had to go over his signature a few times to be sure it was legible.

"I hope to see you in thirty days, and not before. Best of luck, gentlemen. Oh, and, out of curiosity - what did you name her?" His eyes were twinkling, and Donnie hoped it was a sign of a miracle to come.

"Melody," they both sighed in sweet, happy unison.

The next thirty days gave them ample time to second-guess themselves as parents, especially Donnie. "What if I screw this up?" Jon knew what he was referring to.

"Donnie, you need to make peace with that. You weren't planning on being a father again, but you told her you'd support her. You even made all those jokes on Twitter about the 'baby daddy bus,' and how you wanted fans to sign up for you to procreate with them.."

"Jon, don't."

"..and then you had everyone post baby photos as their avis-"

"DON'T." There was an edge in his tone, and while Jon didn't think D would ever get physically violent, it gave him pause.

"You were gearing up to tell the world about the baby. You were going to have your private life exposed, the less-than-perfect truth of it. Is that what scares you?"

Donnie had his face buried in the pillows, so still that Jon wondered whether he was asleep. He touched his friend's back, gently, recoiling as if it burned him. "Donnie. Please. Don't shut me out."

He rolled over, eyes red and puffy again. "I wanted that baby, Jon. I wanted the baby, even if the relationship ended, even if it meant endless jokes in the media, even if it made it difficult to find love in the future.."

Jon knew about all the baby furniture, the clothes, the diapers and bottles D had bought. He knew about the night she confessed to ending the pregnancy, how he had returned all the items to Target, almost throwing a fit when they tried to refuse the returns. It wasn't about the money; of course it wasn't. He could've donated the items, he thought later, but no - it seemed wrong. They were tainted by the memory of what was, and the broken promise of what could have been. He couldn't bear to have any of the baby's things in his sight. "I know. You may spread your love to some less-than-worthy places, but you've always taken responsibility for the results of, uh, sowing love's seed."

D had to laugh a little at that, and at Jon's embarrassment.

They both looked over at the sleeping child. Jon had an epiphany. "Donnie." There was an urgency in his voice which caused a low level of alarm.

"What, Jon?"

The idea was taking shape too swiftly in his mind, and Jon knew he had to word this carefully. "What if this is the same baby?"

Clunk. "What?"

Jon tried again. "What if she knew you weren't ready for her then, or it wasn't time yet, or it was the wrong mom - what if she came back as Melody?"

Donnie tried to fathom this. A few of his fans had tried to talk to him about reincarnation, specifically his, with varying degrees of success. He was undecided on most of it. "You mean, the baby I would've had with -"

Jon nodded.

"- came back now, to give me - us - a chance?"

Jon held his breath. The silence was dreadful.

"You know, Jon, that isn't the craziest notion I've ever heard?"

Jon exhaled. "It isn't? I mean, it isn't."

Donnie's face relaxed for the first time in days. "I like that idea, Jon. She was meant for us, and she had to come to us in the right way, at the right time." The rest of the night passed in philosophical speculations, until their eyelids were heavy with the weight of their thoughts, and sleep laid claim to them.

With only a few days to go, nerves were on-edge. The consul checked in with a daily update: "Nothing to report." He seemed to enjoy the brevity of that call, one of the easiest and most pleasant items on his agenda. Life on Qi was slowly returning, though the three were settled on Katai and didn't wish to rock the boat. Jon could watch the news without getting an ulcer, and most of the media had moved on to other sad stories, which was good news for Qi. The room looked as if they'd been living in it and raising babies in it for years; Jon liked to joke, "It looks like a Disney princess blew up in here!," though he always said it with a shit-eating grin on his face. It was true: she had taken over their world, the tiny ruler of a one-room kingdom, and the two friends were delighted at the lack of man-space. Calls home were met with silly questions like, "What's with all the baby-talk? Why do you sound so sing-song?"

Neither of them was ready to tell anyone yet, just in case. Besides, Donnie mused, it was nice having a happy secret, even if it wouldn't stay a secret for much longer. The final day was moving along like most of the others, when the phone call came, slightly earlier than usual. The consul sounded tense, but Donnie tried not to panic. They were instructed to report to the temporary consulate on Katai, and to bring Melody with them. Then the call was disconnected.

"Jon," Donnie said, and he knew, grabbing Melody while Donnie packed her bag.

The make-shift office was small, but sunlight streamed in from three sides. The consul was there with an official court reporter and two local witnesses. The men were asked what surname would go on Melody's adoption certificate, and they both burst into tears. "She's really ours?"

The consul smiled. "Well, we have to get through the boring stuff first, but, yes, then she's yours." They settled on the hyphenated Wahlberg-Knight, with Jon joking, "Poor kid, what a mouthful of a name when she starts school!"

Donnie teased, "Having my last name in there, she's gonna have a reputation with the teachers before her first day!" There was a sense of sadness that no one had come forward to claim her, but what more could anyone do? Donnie leaned in close, telling Melody, "I promise, when you're old enough, we'll tell you the story of your mother's sacrifice. Your mom was a hero, kid."

When all the words were said and all the papers were signed, the two men found themselves stumbling out into the sunshine in a daze. "She's ours, Jon. We just adopted a BABY."

There was a pause as that sank in. "Now what? Where are we going to live, to raise her?" Jon's logic was kicking in somewhat late, but at least it was trying.

"I don't want her growing up in L.A," Donnie said, thinking ahead to selling the last of his property there.

Jon nodded. "Yeah, but is New York much better? I'm kinda over the big city, D. Too many bad memories.." Donnie squeezed his hand, knowing to whom he was referring.

"So, why not get back to our roots, Jon? We'd be closer to our moms, and Lord knows we'll need help from them and our sisters when rearing this little lady." Donnie placed a kiss on the wide-eyed tranquil blessing in the baby sling.

Jon's frown made Donnie wonder what he'd said wrong. "Boston sounds amazing, but Melody needs to know where she came from. We need a place here, too."

Donnie's mind went into overdrive at the same instant as Jon's. "So, we can build a place here, Jon. You said you wanted to help them rebuild, literally, and I'll support you anyway I can." As the family made their way back to the hotel, lost in happy planning, Melody seemed to be fixated on something in the distant sky.

"Jon, LOOK!"

Off the coast, blazing a bright path through the skies of paradise, Melody had spotted a double rainbow. "A sign of God's promise to humanity.. among other meanings," Jon chuckled. Donnie turned thoughtful.

"About that. Jon, I know this is all happening at once, but we really need to talk about.."

Jon knew what was coming. "Let's just figure out living arrangements first. I can't - I can't go there yet. Can you respect that?"

Donnie was hurt, but tried not to show it. "Yeah, sure. Whatever. Later, then."

\----------------------------------------

Qi had its red tape, just like anywhere else on earth, but once the land deed and the proper permits were obtained, construction was underway. Donnie watched in pride and awe as Jon negotiated every step of the process, from the layout to the supplies, and he could tell that the house would be sturdy, founded on solid design principles and using the best natural materials. Interestingly, Donnie noticed while peeking at the blueprints, there would be quite a few extra bedrooms, as if perhaps *someone* was planning on adding to the family down the road. He made a mental note of this, biding his time.

Melody continued to thrive, and the trio was now a fixture on the islands, splitting their time between Qi and Katai, which was still home-base during construction. Donnie loved showing up unannounced with lunch or just to say hello, and seeing Melody always made Jon forget whatever he'd just been stressing over regarding the build. All over the island, teams were busily laying foundations, erecting beams, raising roofs; it seemed that every able-bodied citizen of Qi was involved in rebuilding, whether officially or as a volunteer. Jon had managed to hire some of the people behind the Brad Pitt-financed New Orleans rebuild, so he knew each house would be sustainable and in harmony with nature. Donnie was increasingly frustrated by the odd celibacy of the arrangement, but Jon was currently married to his work. Donnie admitted to himself that he had been guilty of that same fault once or twice before, and he tried his best to be patient. Things were going to come to a head sooner or later, though, and they both knew it.

It had been a long day. One of the suppliers had fallen through at the last minute, halting construction for several hours until a new, more reliable company could be found. Jon needed to step back and recharge, get a good night's sleep, and start again in the morning. As he slid the hotel room key into the door, he paused, imagining the scene on the other side: Melody, with D wrapped around her little finger, no doubt. The thought made him smile, but as he opened the door, his dream dissolved.

"Donnie? I'm home. Where is she?" Donnie gave a sheepish grin as Jon took in the candles lit all around the room, the wine chilling in an ice bucket on the table, the balcony doors open to let in the sea breeze.

"She's taking the night off, Jon. She said keeping the two of us in line is exhausting, so she's having a sleepover with the manager's wife and her little girl." Jon set down his clipboard, slipping out of his shoes as he closed the door behind him. Something in him was on high alert; he knew this night was going to change his life, the friendship he'd enjoyed for close to three decades, and.. and..

"Jon. Please come and sit down by me. I need to be close to you."

Donnie's voice was hoarse, as if he'd been giving himself hours of pep-talk, or rehearsing his lines, so to speak. He had. He still had no clue what he was going to say, but sometimes improv was the answer. He'd just wing it. What could happen? Even if he got shot down, there was the baby to consider; they'd have to get along, for her sake. Right?

Jon moved to sit by Donnie on the couch. To their left was the table, the glasses waiting, the bottle sweating, just like both of them. Beyond the table was the gorgeous view, the view Melody would know like the inside of her eyelids as she grew up. Both islands felt like home now, and she would get the best of all worlds.

"She's fine, Jon. Really. Relax. I know that's hard for you to do, so, I thought maybe I could give you a ba-- uh, massage." He'd almost said 'backrub,' and they both laughed. You'd think I'd be good at this by now, Donnie mused, but then this wasn't some chick or a guy he'd met in a bar or at a casting call - this was JON.

"Donnie, you're one of the first people who ever knew my secret. Not much of a secret, but, still. You accepted me without question. You've always been there for me, ready to listen to my problems and doubts, never saying you told me so when I made mistake after mistake. You're my best friend, and I love you." Donnie's heart skipped a beat; 'love' could mean a lot of things. Jon loved Melody, loved his work, loved chocolate - what kind of -

"But, this.. Adopting a baby is one thing, but we're not married. We weren't even dating, D. I know you love women, and they love you right back. How is that gonna play out in our lives, in our future?"

Donnie stood up to all of this. "I do love women, Jon. I also love you. I love you the way I've loved some of those women, only.. deeper. It's automatic; I don't have to try - it's just there. If you don't feel that way for me, and if you can't ever feel that way for me, then I'll just have to accept it."

A proud man breaking was an awful thing to see. Donnie was a bundle of nerves, so unsure of himself, and Jon threw him a lifeline. "I do love you that way, Donnie. I'm just scared. What if you stop? What if you meet some girl, and.."

Donnie placed a hand on Jon's knee, stopping him cold. "Life is full of what-ifs, Jon. What if I'd turned down this movie role? What if I'd refused to get on that helicopter?"

Jon's voice went up an octave. "I would've punched you out myself and carried you on board! There's no way I'd leave you behind!"

Donnie smiled. "So, you need me, and I need you. She needs both of us, Jon. Don't we owe it to ourselves, and to her, to try?"

Damn his logic, Jon thought, just before his body began to tell his brain to shut up. It had been too long for both of them, and the roller-coaster of almost dying and adopting a baby and rebuilding an island and.. It was time to get off. Uh, the roller-coaster. Yeah. Jon heard the kiss before he felt it, the softest sigh, a slight parting of the lips, and then it was happening, swooping them up in its power, a new storm gathering speed. Hurricane Donnie. The kiss grew in intensity, until it was a savage devouring of Jon's lips. How many times had he watched this man, on or offstage, suckling and biting on a lucky lady's lips? How many times had it made him hard, aching with envy and longing? If they could only see us now, he thought.

"Are you sure this is what you want? Have you ever..? With a man?" Jon's voice was a growl, a warning, as he knew once things really got going, it would be verrrry difficult to stop.

Donnie whispered in his ear, Jon's eyes growing wide, then half-lidded with lust. It seemed his friend was not a total novice here, though not as experienced as Jon. "I know what I want. I want you, Jon. I want whatever you're able to give me." He was hungry, tasting the salt of Jon's neck, finding the exquisitely sensitive spots on his ears before feeding once again from his lips. "Time for that back-rub. Take this off for me." There was no laughter now, just a shaky, needy feeling turning Jon's inside to liquid gold. "I'm going to finish what I started the day of the storms. I've been waiting for this for a long time, longer than you know." Donnie's hands were tugging at the fabric, and Jon raised his arms, letting the younger man strip him. Positioning him on his front on the couch, D began to pull at the tight knots in Jon's shoulders, making him moan. The hands moved lower, releasing the tangle of aches and pains in his back, warming his skin with every stroke, kneading him to putty. I am clay, Jon thought; shape me how you will. Make me new; make me yours.

As soft and boneless as Jon felt along the back of his body, that's how hard and needy he felt along the front of his body. "Hang on. I'll be right back." Donnie's voice was steadier now, as he found his groove, entering his element as lover and master seducer. He folded the overstuffed comforter into a pallet on the floor, then pulled Jon down onto the soft love-nest. Jon looked up at him, arching an eyebrow, curious to see what his friend had in mind now. "On your front, Jon." He groaned; he didn't need any more massage, he needed - "Just do it." Oh, that tone; what could Jon do? He rolled back over, giving himself up to Donnie. There was a pop, followed by a hiss. The first splash was so cold that Jon yelped, but then the bubbles began to burst against his skin, tingling deliciously, and he sighed.

"Champagne? So cliché," Jon tried to say, but it came out sounding drunk, thick with longing.

Donnie just chuckled, pouring another trickle onto Jon's lower back, letting it run in rivulets over his hips and onto the blanket. "Right. A cliché. Because you've had champagne poured on your body so many times before, huh, Jon?" He had to admit that, no, this was a new pleasure, hiding in the crook of his arm as his face burned. A dribble of champagne teased along the waistband of Jon's jeans before slipping beneath it, warming with the heat of his body, and Donnie was jealous of that liquid, getting to access places as-yet forbidden to him. "Ok. Roll over - and finish undressing."

Jon felt like protesting that D was at an advantage, still fully dressed, but one look at the man's face made him forget. He was propped up on his elbows, and as the first pour hit his chest, his head fell back. "God, you're killin' me, Donnie." The alcohol slid down his chest and onto his stomach, which was toned by hours of hard labor and a clean island diet. Maybe it was absorbing into him, getting him tipsy; he sure felt dizzy.

"Take. Them. Off." Oh, yeah - he'd forgotten the second half of the command, hadn't he? That was swiftly remedied, and Donnie stood over him, gazing down at Jon's naked form.

"So hard for me." It was true; Jon couldn't remember being this impressed with his own body's responses, and that was saying something. "Ready?" Before Jon could answer, a splash hit him right where it counted, and he groaned. Donnie sat the bottle on the table, beginning to strip himself. "I've made quite a mess, Jon. Better clean it up." His mouth was a most effective ShamWow, soaking up the champagne from every inch of Jon's skin, moving ever closer to the quivering rod he'd anointed moments ago.

When his mouth enveloped Jon at last, they both moaned. Jon didn't even try to hide his need; he begged, voice breaking, for something - anything - just..

"More. Please, don't stop. I need.." Donnie knew exactly what Jon needed, better than he himself knew, and Jon wasn't going to get off that easy. Mouth-play got him good and ready, but the night was young, and there were so many wicked ideas playing out in D's mind, so many games they could enjoy.

"You're going to give me what I need, Jon - what we both need. That's round one. Round two, we're gonna switch it up, and I'm gonna give you what you need." Donnie's hand dipped knowingly towards Jon's backside, feeling his cheeks clench as his thumb brushed Jon's opening. "That's right. Give and take; isn't that what makes a relationship? I'm going to give, and I'm going to take.. and so are you."

That sounded like heaven. The candles burned, standing witness as the passion unfolded over the next several hours. By the time the lovers fell asleep, sore and spent, the witnesses had burned down, taking the secret with them. Everything was changed, but, rather than losing their friendship, which both had feared, they had deepened it. Close to three decades of foreplay had been a hell of a build-up, and the next few decades looked promising. Jon woke up, finding he was the little spoon, despite being taller.

"Morning," he ventured, peeking over his shoulder.

"Morning," said the feline grin that matched his own. "Melody's not set to finish her sleepover until noon," Donnie said, sleep in his voice, that sexy rasp like a smoker's, though he'd quit months ago.

"Oh? So we have time for a shower?"

"Mmhmm. And then, maybe.. something to eat. I'm pretty hungry."

Jon laughed. "Insatiable, I'd say." Jon's wish had been granted. This morning was already guaranteed to be better than the one before.

\------------------------------------------------

It was, in many ways, a beginning, but in other ways, it was simply a continuation of what had started long ago. Donnie had known Jon was different from the other guys, even before he knew what 'different' meant. Other lovers and situations had come between them over the years, some good, some bad, but Melody had brought them together at the perfect time. Who's to say how long they would've fought their feelings if it wasn't for her? Jon often mused aloud whether the mother had been other-worldly, a spirit of some kind, merely a vessel for bringing the baby into their lives. Both men's families accepted the news of their pairing with love and joy (and a hefty dose of "FINALLY!"), and they were even more excited about the new baby, the baby which linked the two families once and for all. Most of the fans were accepting of it all, and as D loves to say, "Those who mind, don't matter; those who matter, don't mind." Jordan even made a lullaby album inspired by his darling niece, which, to his mixture of delight and mild annoyance, was his most commercially-successful solo CD to date. Half the proceeds went to the relief fund for the island nation of Qi, for which Jordan was feted in grand style during the new family's housewarming.

Life flowed along, with the three of them spending most of the year in Boston and wintering on the island. It was almost midnight on the New Year's Eve of Melody's third winter, a time to reflect on the past and make plans for the future. Melody was *supposed* to be going to bed to allow the parents to ring in the New Year in an adult frame of mind, but she was resisting this. She was an expert at playing possum, and Jon had just tucked her in for the umpteenth time and plodded over softly to sit beside D on the couch, when little Melody re-appeared in the open doorway. They sensed her presence before she spoke, though the sofa faced outwards toward the balcony with its ocean view.

"Yesss?" Donnie drew it out, shaking his head with a resigned grin.

Melody came around to stand in front of them, then waited. The couple dutifully scooted apart enough to allow her to sit between them, her favorite place to be. "Daddy," she began; Donnie had always been 'Daddy,' while Jon was 'Dad.' Confusing to some, but it worked for them.

"What, sweetie?" Her face was so serious, it made him slightly nervous.

"You have all these pictures of me up on the walls, and all those home movies, but - something's missing." It was true; their home had 'Melody' stamped all over it, from the feminine touches in every room (except the master bedroom), to the veritable gallery of photos of her, an ever-expanding exhibit of her childhood captured on film.

Jon looked at Donnie; he had a gut feeling about where this was headed, but D seemed oblivious. "Missing?," asked Donnie. Yup. Oblivious.

"Well, most of my friends have pictures and movies of their parents getting married, dancing and eating cake and stuff. Why don't you? Where are they?"

Donnie's jaw dropped, then snapped tightly shut. Jon would have to field this one. "Uh, well, sweetie, that's because Daddy and I aren't married." Melody was looking at Donnie's fingers, bare of jewelry. She compared Jon's hand to Donnie's, finding it similarly under-dressed.

"Why not?"

And there it was. They lived together, they loved together, they were raising a daughter together, but they weren't official. It's not that they hadn't thought about it; each man had entertained the idea before, alone, in secret from the other. But Donnie had already been divorced twice, and Jon.. Well, Jon's was complicated, but he wasn't entirely sure about marriage, either. Then again, they were now essentially looking at their forties in the rear-view mirror; what were they waiting for?

The pair exchanged a look over their precocious three-year-old's head. "Donnie.."

Jon slid from his spot on the couch and onto one knee. The moon was bright and full over his shoulder, bearing witness to this tender moment. "We are one in every other way that matters. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?" It was simple and to the point, but there was a beauty and a depth of feeling which could not have been sustained in a long rehearsed speech.

Donnie had something in his eye; he'd never been proposed to before - well, not a *real* proposal. "Yes, Jon. Yes, I will marry you."

Melody got up, squealing and spinning in circles. "My dads are getting maaaarried! My dads are getting maaaarried!" Her joy was infectious, and soon the three of them were hugging and crying tears of happiness. Donnie scooped her up in his strong arm, knowing the days of balancing her on his hip like this wouldn't last forever.

"NOW will you go to bed, princess?"

She placed a fingertip to her lips, considering. "One other thing. I know boys don't have babies.."

Jon chuckled; here it comes, he thought. Oh, Lord..

"..buuut.. I'd really like a little brother or sister. I love my older brothers, but I wanna be a big sister. Please?"

Both men shook their heads, not as a no, but as in "We are SO going to do what she wants, because we want it, too."

With promises to discuss it "next year," Melody finally settled down to sleep. The new fiancees rang in the New Year in their preferred NYE activity - making love, holding out til the clock struck twelve before flying over the edge together.

"So, what's it to be, Jon - a boy, or another girl?"

Jon just grinned in the darkness. "Maybe we should let her decide."

Donnie groaned. "Knowing her, she'll ask for one of each!" That got a laugh.

"Would that be so bad?"

Donnie had to concede that it wouldn't. Neither of them was sure yet what the future would bring, but they knew the three of them would be figuring it out together.


End file.
